


Small Hours

by LordofLies



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordofLies/pseuds/LordofLies
Summary: “I love you,” Wing sighed.
Drift dimmed his optics, letting the ghosts of the past drain slowly away.  He was left with a swelling warmth in his abdomen at their passing.  Wing was wrapped around him.  He was safe, loved, suspended in the dark and the quiet while the city slept.  In this moment there was only the two of them, and no jagged past, nor unknown future, could touch them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Continuity? What's that? Nothing that's going to get in the way of this self-indulgent, sappy fic, that's for sure.

Drift woke with a start.  His vocalizer strained in a silent scream, mind caught in the grip of a vision that was quickly draining away.  He closed his mouth—fans whirring, fuel pounding through his lines—as reality came into focus.  The quiet darkness of the room pressed in around him, calming his racing spark.  After a few moments, he sighed, unmuting his vocalizer.

 Another nightmare, vivid as daylight.  He glanced towards the window on his right, seeing that the city was still in its night cycle.  His internal chronometer corroborated that it was, in fact, still hours before morning.

“Drift?” Wing murmured sleepily, shifting against him.

“Go back to recharge, Wing,” Drift rasped, his intake sore from the exertion.  He vented in deeply, trying to calm himself.  Beside him, Wing propped himself up on one arm, his optics burning low with sleep.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Drift insisted, his armor tightening down against his frame.  Wing settled a hand on his hip and propped his chin on Drift’s shoulder.

“Was it a nightmare?”

“…yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I see,” Wing said softly, the faint glow of his optics reflecting off Drift’s armor.  “Do you want to come back to recharge?”

Drift sighed, his fuel pump still thumping with fear and urgency.  Flashes of battlefields, and bad memories, still threatened to claw him open when he shuttered his optics.

“Not quite yet…”

Wing hummed and began to shift around behind Drift’s shoulder.  After the flier finished rearranging himself, Drift felt a tug at his waist.  He turned towards Wing, quirking an optic ridge.  Wing smiled at him.

“Come here,” he insisted, his legs spread and lax against the berth as he urged Drift towards him.  Drift sighed and let himself be pulled into the other mech’s lap.  Once he was settled, and their legs and plating comfortably arranged, Wing wrapped his arms around Drift’s midsection in a warm embrace.  The flier moved his chin back to rest on Drift’s shoulder, nasal ridge nestled against his neck cables.  He vented deeply, warm air puffing gently against Drift’s throat.

“I love you,” Wing sighed.  Drift brought his hands forward to rest them over Wing’s, forcing himself to relax and focus on the steady hum of Wing’s system’s pressed against his spinal strut.

Drift dimmed his optics, letting the ghosts of the past drain slowly away.  He was left with a swelling warmth in his abdomen at their passing.  Wing was wrapped around him.  He was safe, loved, suspended in the dark and the quiet while the city slept.  In this moment, there was only the two of them, and no jagged past, nor unknown future, could touch them.

They sat like that for a while, occasionally shifting, sighing, or moving a hand to stroke soothingly at the other’s plating.  Eventually, Drift realized that he’d come down enough from the memory purge that he could return to recharge if he wanted.  Now, instead of cold anxiety, there was a hot, sweet desire pooling in his lines.  He shifted again in Wing’s lap, acutely aware of how the knight’s pelvic plating pressed against his aft.  Cautiously, he allowed his hands to slide down and trace faint patterns against the inside of his own thighs.  He folded further into Wing’s embrace, tilting his helm back and parting his lips.

“Are you ready to go back to recharge?” Wing asked, the edge of his smile visible out of the corner of Drift’s optic.

“Nnnno…” Drift said slowly, drawing his legs up before letting them slide back down against Wing’s.

“…did you want to do something else?” Wing asked, the amusement in his voice audible.

“If you’re not too tired.”

“Oh, I think I’m awake enough,” Wing purred, pressing a soft kiss to Drift’s finial.  His hands released Drift’s middle, sliding down his abdominal plating to delve into the seams where his thighs met his pelvis.  He eased clever fingers under the plating, teasing at the wiring around Drift’s array.  Drift moaned, hips shuddering up at the sudden stimulation.  Unprompted, his interfacing array clicked open to release a rapidly pressurizing spike and a valve just beginning to swell with energon.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Wing purred into Drift’s audial, making the grounder groan and his valve clench reflexively.

“Everywhere.”

“Hmmm, that’s pretty broad.  Not sure I know what you mean…”

“Wing…”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Wing assured him, nipping at the lines of Drift’s neck.  “I know what you look like when you overload.”  Drift shuddered against him, feeling the first trickle of lubricant making its way through his valve.

“You know I don’t do embarrassed.  I want you to stroke my spike… while you finger my valve.”

“Good choice,” Wing said thickly.  Drift smirked as he felt Wing’s interfacing array begin to heat against his aft.  His self-satisfaction at getting Wing riled up was short lived, however.  Wing grasped his spike in one hand and began to stroke him in lazy pumps, spreading the fluid beading at the top around to ease the slide of his palm against it.  Drift gasped, whining as his hips bucked up into Wing’s touch.  Wing shushed him and held his hips down with his other hand.

“Hush,” he said, “relax.”

Drift did his best to obey, shuddering and moaning quietly as Wing continued to pump his spike.  He squeezed just below the head every so often, drawing sounds of pleasure out of Drift as little spurts of transfluid dribbled out and over his fingers.

Wing’s hand on his spike felt amazing, but there was an ache in Drift’s valve that kept him restless.  The calipers clenched on nothing, lubricant slicking the tight passage and gathering, glistening, between the outer folds of the valve.

“Wing,” Drift moaned, “Please.”

“Mmhmm,” Wing hummed.  The hand that had been holding Drift’s rebellious hips down began to trail lower.  Careful fingers brushed against the wet opening, spreading little smears of valve lubricant around.  Drift swallowed, tilting his hips up towards those fingers, chasing their touch.  They stroked a bit more firmly, dipping between the slick folds to stroke Drift from his exterior node to the base of his valve.  Once coated with his fluids, they pressed teasingly against the clenching ring of mesh.

Drift moaned and sighed again, unashamed of being vocal tonight.  He ground his aft back against Wing’s panel, knowing that the jet was likely already pressurized behind his paneling.  Wing stiffened a bit at his movement, and then suddenly those teasing fingers plunged into his valve, stretching the ring out as Wing moved three of them inside him at once.

Drift cried out, valve clenching down on the fingers now thrusting slowly in and out of him.  “Oh, frag.  Wing!  Wing, ah!”  Wing kissed the side of Drift’s jaw, stroking his spike while he found a steady pace thrusting his fingers into that dripping valve.  Lubricant coated the jet’s hand and the inside of Drift’s thighs as he shifted restlessly, charge building higher and higher in his belly.  He could feel overload coming as Wing kept touching him, never going faster than the lazy, self-assured pace he’d set for himself.  It was driving Drift mad, but he was almost there…

“You’re so wet already, I could probably fit my whole hand inside you now,” Wing remarked in passing, folding a fourth finger down with the others to work inside Drift’s valve.

It was too much.  Drift felt the white-hot surge of overload overtake him as transfluid pulsed from his spike in wet streaks.  His valve fluttered and clenched in spasms as he rocked against Wing’s hand, little shivers of pleasure squirming inside him as those talented fingers brushed his inner lining. 

When he’d come down from the high, he slouched back against Wing’s chassis, valve still clenching rhythmically against Wing’s fingers as he rode out the aftershocks.

“Oooh, Primus, Wing,” Drift sighed, shifting his hips again.  “That felt good.”

“I’m glad,” Wing said, leaving another kiss at the corner of Drift’s mouth as he drew his slick fingers out of the speedster’s valve.

“Hmm, it feels like you might need a hand too,” Drift drawled lazily, casually rubbing his aft against Wing’s heated panel.  Wing vented in sharply, his plating rising in anticipation at Drift’s coy ministrations.

“I would not be opposed.”

“Ah, only…” Drift sighed, feigning disappointment.  “I just… don’t really want to move.  I’m too comfortable.  I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“I see.  That is disappointing.  I was looking forward to overloading with your glossa in my valve,” Wing admitted.

“Cheater,” Drift groaned, feeling another pulse of arousal run through him at the thought.  “Well, still, it would be rude not to return the favor.  Do you think you could spike me like this?”  Drift grinned wickedly to himself as he felt Wing shudder around him.

“I…think I could manage it,” Wing said, trying to sound indifferent.  There was a faint click as Wing retracted his own modesty panel, his hot spike pressurizing against Drift’s spinal strut.  The grounder trembled with anticipation, tipping his hips forward as Wing worked black hands under his thighs and lifted him up enough to prop him against Wing’s own.  He felt that hot spike slide between the apex of his thighs, dragging through his valve lips as Wing rocked himself forward, coating his shaft in Drift’s lubricants.

“Come on come on come _on_ ,” Drift whined, his valve already clenching again in anticipation of having Wing’s spike inside him.

“As you wish,” Wing replied, nudging at Drift’s helm until he could draw the grounder into a wet, passionate kiss.  Drift felt the tip of Wing’s spike finally press at the rim of his valve.  When Wing pulled him back against his chest, the head of it popped inside.

 “Ah~!  Yessss…” Drift moaned, sinking down onto Wing’s spike, rocking his hips to work it in deeper.  His calipers clutched and fluttered, grasping at the slick shaft inside him.  Warm and thick, it felt like heaven as Wing ground against his nodes. 

Wing had one hand open against Drift’s chest, hugging him tightly as the flier slid in and out in slow, gentle thrusts.  The other hand trailed over Drift’s hips and towards his array.  Drift squirmed, thinking that Wing would stroke his spike while he fragged him.  Instead, the hand came down lower to rub at the taut folds of Drift’s valve—the place where Wing’s spike disappeared inside him.  Drift whined, feeling himself grow hotter as he thought about Wing’s hand exploring the space where their arrays connected, where Drift’s valve swallowed his spike.  After a few minutes of that, and Wing’s agonizingly slow thrusts, his finger moved to rub at Drift’s exterior node.

“Oh, oh frag, Wing! Nngh!” Drift cried as Wing began to rub tight circles against the slippery, sensitive node.  Drift’s valve clenched reflexively, squeezing Wing’s spike, desperate to draw it in deeper.

“Drift…” Wing groaned, shuddering as he thrust into his lover’s welcoming embrace.  Every time Drift tightened around him, it sent ripples of pleasure up his spinal strut.  Drool leaked out the corner of his mouth as he buried his face in Drift’s neck.  There was a knot of tension in his belly drawing tighter and tighter with every thrust into that silken heat.  His frame was tense and relaxed at the same time.  He felt safe and sheltered, wrapped up in the darkness of their room and the wet heat of Drift around him. 

In their tangled fields, he could sense that Drift felt the same.  The cold anxiety of his bad dreams had melted into a liquid heat that Wing wanted to drown himself in.

“Can I come inside you, Drift?” Wing panted, feeling himself cresting towards overload.  Drift moaned, squeezing down on him and gripping tightly at his thighs.

“ _Yes_ , please,” he almost sobbed.  “ _Please_ , I need you.”

Wing’s vents hitched at Drift’s admission, feeling the speedster quiver around him, fingers nearly putting dents in the armor of his legs.  Wing brought one trembling hand down to lay against the flat of Drift’s belly, drawing him into a tight embrace while his other hand continued to massage Drift’s exterior node.  Drift squirmed and panted, oral lubricant leaking out the corner of his mouth and spasms wracking his valve with increasing frequency as he chased his own overload.

“I love you,” Wing whispered into Drift’s audial, pressing down hard against Drift’s node.  With a cry, Drift overloaded again, clamping down like a vice around the spike inside him as his own twitched and spurted another coating of transfluid across both their thighs.  The heat and pressure was too much, and the knot inside Wing burst as his own overload crackled through him.

Drift pressed back against Wing, venting heavily and milking his spike with little intermittent squeezes as he felt warm transfluid fill him, stretching the fine mesh lining of his valve.  The full feeling in his tanks was followed by a heavy, lethargic satisfaction.

“I think I’m ready to go back to recharge now,” Drift murmured after they’d both had a few minutes to cool down.  Wing nuzzled his neck affectionately.

“I like the sound of that.”  Now that his lust had dissipated, a wave of drowsiness came crashing over him.  His limbs felt heavy and he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Drift and remain that way until morning.

Drift groaned as he lifted himself up and allowed Wing’s spike to slide out of him with a slick sound.  He snapped his valve cover back immediately to keep any of his lover’s transfluid from escaping and flopped down onto the berth beside Wing.

Wing retracted his spike and closed his own array covers, turning to the side and laying himself down beside Drift.  He parted his legs so the grounder could weave his own between them and draw them closer.  Drift had one hand pressed against his lower abdomen as he sighed and tucked his head under Wing’s chin, murmuring something.

“Hmm?  What was that?” Wing asked absently.

“Love you too…” Drift said in a sleepy, barely audible whisper.  Wing smiled, draping an arm over Drift’s hip and shuttering his optics.  He let himself sink quietly back into recharge, lulled by the thrum of Drift’s chassis against him and the warmth that had settled deep inside his fame.


End file.
